


The Puppet King

by Maaiams



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Cussing, Dream SMP War, Dream Smp, Gen, Minecraft, Minecraft IRL, background dreamnotfound, duels for the throne, l'manberg, no beta we die like george in manhunt, what do you expect it's Tommy, why am I writing a fic about minecraft youtubers help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26324479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maaiams/pseuds/Maaiams
Summary: Tommy Innit, hero of L’Manberg, challenges the tyrannical King Clay to a duel for the throne. He knows he can win as long as he avoids the blade of the king’s shadow, a puppet of a man that only exists to do all the king's dirty work for him. But the king is not who he appears to be, and his puppet may be the most dangerous foe of them all.Inspired by the Dream SMP war, but doesn’t follow the plot at all. It’s more of a realistic Minecraft medieval AU.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 140





	The Puppet King

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said I wasn’t going to write anymore, but everyone was saying how fun it was to write Tommy and I wanted in.

The doors to the throne room burst open, heavy oaken planks banging to a stop against stone walls. An arrogant figure strides in, blue coat flapping in his wake. Behind him follows a smaller boy, the only companion who’d dared to accompany him on his fool’s errand. The revolutionary draws his sword and points it at the figure at the end of the hall.

“Your days of tyranny are over, BITCH!” Despite his formidable height, his voice and attitude betray his youth. After a moment of stunned silence he chortles, “Oh _boy_ I’ve always wanted to say that!”

An elbow pokes into his side. “You gotta say the words Tommy, or it isn’t a proper challenge.”

“Shut up Tubbo,” Tommy snaps, but straightens up anyway and declares, “King Clay of the Dream Kingdom, I- Tommy Innit of L’Manberg- challenge you to a duel for the throne!”

His challenge seems to unnerve the king, even though his eyes, hidden by dark shades, reveal nothing. Something about the way he sat on his throne was off and his embroidered robes seemed to be the wrong color. Red would have matched his complexity better, even though green was the color of royalty. The man’s brown hair was swept up in some attempt at the latest style, but the delicate puffs were all but quashed by the heavy golden crown that threatened to slip to one side.

The king didn’t pose an intimidating figure, but the creature behind his throne did.

The hooded figure stood silently beside the king, completely unfazed by Tommy’s dramatic entrance. His features were hidden behind an ever-smiling mask and a hand rested on the pommel of the dark sword at his side. He was the king’s shadow, whispering secrets to his ear and killing those who dared speak out against him. Where the king went he followed, trailing after him like a loyal dog, but as deadly as a wolf when provoked.

They’d clashed blades before, once when he came to confiscate Tommy’s illicit discs, and then again when he’d caught him sneaking around the walls of L’Manberg. When King Clay somehow blew up the grounds inside shortly thereafter, he’d known exactly who’d been responsible. Even though he was a force to be reckoned with, in the end Tommy knew that he was merely a puppet, dancing to the king’s strings.

“Your Highness, do you accept?” the royal advisor asks in his annoying accent.

“I do.” Despite how out of place he looks, the king’s voice is deep and confident. He stands to draw his sword, but his shadow plants a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him. The masked figure leans in, whispering something.

“No, I got this.” King Clay shoves the hand off, leaving the shadow to slink back to his spot by the throne. Diamonds on a bejeweled handle scintillate in the light as he draws his sword.

“He put _diamonds_ on a _diamond_ sword.” Tubbo exclaims quietly, shaking their head, “That’s a bit excessive, man.”

Tommy doesn’t reply. He’s too focused on his foe, sword held in a guard position. The fate of L’Manberg and the revolution rests heavily on his shoulders.

“BRING IT GREEN MAN!” he yells, hoping to goad the king into attacking first.

“ _Down with the revolution_.” the king declares, the deep timbre of his voice chilling him to the bone. “ _It was never meant to be_.”

The diamond blade swings at him.

Tommy plants his feet, bracing himself for the blow. To his surprise, it connects weakly with his own blade. It was as if the king was unfamiliar with the weapon in his hands and overswung. This was not the fearsome warrior the stories made him out to be. 

“YOU’RE _SHIT_ , Clay.” The confidence that he was projecting but sorely lacked begins to solidify into the real thing. He cuts back with an aggressive attack of his own and the two diamond swords clash again, throwing spots of light over the opulent throne room. 

“THIS IS FOR WILBUR!” he screams, easily parrying a clumsy slash. “YOU TOOK OUR DRUGS AND OUR VAN!”

“ _Potions_.” Tubbo corrects from the sidelines.

Tommy glares at them, “FOR TUBBO, EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE AN ANNOYING BITCH.”

“Yeah! You burnt my house down!”

“FOR FUNDY!”

“Yeah!”

“FOR JACK!”

Slowly but surely, Tommy begins to force King Clay backwards. Blood runs freely down his green robes as he frantically tries to block Tommy’s blows.

“FOR MY DISCS!”

_Clang!_

“FOR THE FREE PEOPLE OF L’MANBERG!”

_Clash!_

“FOR INDEPEN- _DANCE_!”

Spotting an opening, Tommy ducks under his guard and kicks him in the chest. The king stumbles, his already slipping crown finally flying free. 

“WHADDYA GONNA DO NOW, _BITCH BOY_?” A final swing knocks the sword out of his hand and the king joins his crown on the ground. “HOW'D YOU FEEL THAT THE GREAT TOMMY INNIT BEAT YOU AT YOUR OWN GAME?”

As the king raises a hand in a desperate attempt to shield himself, his sunglasses tumble off and a pair of brown eyes stare up at him in terror.

 _Brown,_ not royal _green_.

Still, that doesn’t stop Tommy. Engulfed by the heat of battle, he raises his sword above his head. “FOR THE REVOLUTION!” he cries, bringing the blade down upon the imposter.

_CLANG!_

A midnight blade intercepts him, the sudden impact rattling his bones. As King Clay cowers beneath the crossed swords, Tommy furiously locks eyes with the man who dared to interfere.

A pair of soulless black dots leer back at him.

“Enough.” the king’s shadow says. His voice is quiet, soft from disuse. He flicks his wrist, and all of a sudden Tommy’s sword is gone from his hand, clattering to the floor several paces away. The point of a Netherite sword fills his vision. 

“HOLY _SHIT_ MAN CALM DOWN!” Tommy immediately backs away, hands out in front of him. Tubbo rushes to his side, sword drawn. He motions for his friend to put it away and they hesitantly obey. He may no longer have his sword, but he is still armed with words.

“Lay down your weapon and I’ll give you whatever you want once I’m king.” He gives King Clay a kick, “I’ll even let this bastard live if you want. You can have him back, alright?”

The sword leaves his face, but the mask still stares at him menacingly.

“What do you want from me, man?” he demands. The longer this standoff continues, the more dangerous his fragile victory gets, “We can talk about this! Do you like business? Let’s do business, okay?”

The shadow stares at him silently for a moment, as if considering his proposition. Tommy breathes a sigh of relief when he turns to the two white clad guards beside him. “Clear the room.”

“Tommy- wait!” Tubbo cries as the guard with the headband drags them away, “I don’t think he’s-”

The heavy doors to the throne room slam shut, leaving them in silence.

The sword of midnight disappears into its sheath and the masked figure reaches down as if to help King Clay to his feet. Instead, a gloved hand plucks up the fallen crown. “George.” he calls, and the bespectacled royal advisor rushes over. He flicks a hand at the deposed king on the floor. “Take Eret to the infirmary.”

The king- _Eret-_ ’s eyes are wide and pleading as George hurriedly helps him up, supporting him with a shoulder. The advisor pulls him through a side door before he can say anything to the masked figure.

Impossibly, the room gets colder.

“So you want to be king.” the man before him says, sauntering over to the vacated throne. Instead of taking his usual place beside it, he throws himself onto the cushioned chair, kicking his feet over a padded armrest. The crown hangs carelessly from his hands.

Tommy is determined to remain unfazed at the strange turn of events. “Yeah.” he says, with all his usual hotheadedness and confidence, “What’ve you got to say about it?”

“You see, Tommy. _Tomathy_. _Tom_. _Thomas_.” the man mocks, “You’ve put me in a bit of a predicament here.” he steeples his fingers on the armrest. “Let’s say you defeated Eret today. That puts George next in line for the throne and I don’t like that. He’s got too much of an attitude and knows he can get away with whatever he wants from me.”

“But I won-”

“The other option would be to say you lost, and Eret keeps the throne.” he continues, plowing through Tommy’s outburst. “That seems like an awful amount of work for me. I’d have to dispose of you and that friend of yours.”

“Leave Tubbo out of this!” Tommy snarls, “This was between _me_ and that _bastard_ Clay.” he jabs a finger at him, “Look man, I don’t know what the _fuck_ you’re trying to do here, but I won that duel fair and square! _I’m_ the new king, who are you to say about that?”

He realizes too late just how dangerous his words are. The figure on the throne shifts and Tommy flinches involuntarily. But instead of reaching for his sword, the hand goes to his mask, pushing it aside just enough to reveal a single eye.

 _Green_. Startling, vibrant _green_. The color of royalty.

Tommy catches sight of a few gruesome scars before the mask falls back in place again.

“My name is Clay, but you can call me Dream.”

 _Dream. Dream. The Dream Kingdom_. All of a sudden, everything makes sense. His eyes widen and he takes on the appearance of a fish gasping for air, “WHA-? _YOU-_?!”

“Yes, _me_.” In a mocking gesture, Dream raises the crown and places it daintily on his head. When Eret had worn it, it’d appeared slightly too large. But on Dream’s brow, it fit perfectly.

“Then who was-?”

“ _Eret_ was a power-hungry fool, but not a fighter.” King Clay- _Dream_ , says, “He can’t tell one end of a sword from the other, and that cost him his position.” the white mask flicks back up to him, “You, on the other hand, seem to be decent.”

“ _Decent_.” This was the very man who’d disarmed him with a simple flick of the wrist. Tommy comes to the frightening realization that he stands no chance against _this_ King Clay.

“Could do with a bit of practice.” Dream shrugs, “I can teach you to be better.”

Immediately, Tommy switches tactics. He senses an opportunity here, a way that he still could win. In a bid for time, he bows deeply before the throne and when he faces Dream again, it is with a charming smile.

“ _Dreammmm_ , Dream my friend-” he puts on his business voice, “or _King_ Dream, if you would prefer-? No? Okay just Dream then.” he amends, ”Could I call you Big D?”

“No.”

“Small D?”

There’s a flash of steel and Tommy jumps back. “HAAAH!” he shrieks, the Netherite blade narrowly missing his limbs. “Sorry sorry I didn’t mean it!” He hurriedly composes himself again, clearing his throat. “Could I ask you a question?”

A nod.

“So if you’re king, then you’d let that other guy sit on your throne?” he asks, genuinely curious, “Cause if it were me, I’d probably want to keep it all to myself.”

“It’s easier to stop other people’s assassinations than my own.” Dream says as if it were the most simple thing in the world, “It’s not my fault that I’m a better fighter than my own guards.”

“But don’t you _like_ being king? _I_ would like being king.” he coughs surreptitiously, “You could order people around, tell them to do things and they won’t be able to do anything about it. No offense Dream, but seems like a pretty _lame_ reason to give up all that power to me.”

“Okay, maybe there was a bit more.” Dream admits, “There’s long meetings, stuffy nobles, fake diplomacy with neighboring kingdoms,” the list continues, “Laws and rules and needing to be ‘proper’, upholding traditions, expectations to marry, the oh so _public_ appearances.” Finally his voice softens to a snarl, “If _I’m_ king and _I_ have so much power, then why can’t _I_ do whatever _I_ want?” he sounds almost like a child now, whining, “I refuse to dance to the strings of society. I shall run my kingdom as I see fit, and I’ve found it easier to rule unopposed with a puppet of my own.”

Tommy had gotten it all wrong. “If you’re the one in charge, then why did you let Eret do such horrible things?”

A shrug, “Eh, they weren’t that bad.”

“They weren’t that bad-!” Despite his thirst for power, the passionate revolutionary rears its head again in Tommy. “Dream, he confiscated all the potions in the kingdom! People were dying left and right-!”

Dream cuts him off, “You think you can do better?”

“Yes.” Tommy says without hesitation. Already, he can see the glittering crown resting upon his head.

Dream stands, and a hand is extended out to him. “Then I offer you this deal. I make you king, and that means you must do everything required of you in that position. Not just ordering people around, but also the _hard_ , _boring_ work. Things like stuffy meetings, upholding appearances, all of it. You also have to succeed where Eret failed: protecting my throne from challengers.”

“Oh, NO PROBLEM _THERE_ ,” Tommy puffs out his chest, “I almost defeated King Technoblade of the Sleepy Kingdom, you know.”

“Sure.” Dream continues, and Tommy is offended by his dismissive tone, “You can do whatever you want, make whatever rules as you see fit, but when I tell you to do something, you must obey. Remember,” his voice is suddenly dangerous, high and hysterical around the edges, “I AM YOUR KING! If you even _think_ of overthrowing me, you’ll be dead before the idea even leaves your head! Understand?”

“Perfectly.” Tommy nods meekly. He remembers his sword flying out of his hand.

“Great.” he claps, before a thought strikes him, “Oh, and your friend must come and stay with us. They could be your royal advisor. Can’t have any witnesses running around, can we?”

Upon hearing Tubbo being threatened again, Tommy clenches his fists, “I swear if you touch one-”

“Whoa, whoa, calm down there Tommy.” Dream puts up his hands in a placating gesture, “I wouldn’t dream of it. George means a lot to me, and I know Tubbo means just as much to you.”

That immediately makes it much, much worse, “What the fuck Dream! I don’t want to _kiss_ my best friend!” Everyone knew about the odd rumors of what went on between the king’s shadow and the royal advisor, “You disgust me!”

Dream claps a hand to his mask in exasperation, “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah you better or I’ll- I’ll-” he looks around. He can’t really call the authorities on the authority. “ _Yeah_.” he leaves the threat hanging.

“Do we have a deal then?” the hand hovers invitingly in front of him.

Tommy reaches for it, but then hesitates.

“Is this not what you wanted?” Dream asks, his voice taking on a mocking tone, “Indepen- _dance_?”

Tommy looks at the ground, “Yeah, but this kinda defeats the whole purpose of it,” he mutters.

“This is better.” Dream insists, “This is control over the whole nation. With you on the throne, you won’t need a revolution to change things.”

His voice is honey to his ears, drowning out everything else. Tommy’s ready to indulge in it, to let it fill his head with sweet nothings, but there’s one last thing he needs to know.

“What about the other guy?”

“Eret? If he’s smart, he’ll get to keep a room in my castle as part of my- _your_ court. But if he runs his mouth-” Dream trailed off, and Tommy was smart enough to figure out the implications himself.

He nods, satisfied with his answer. That was good enough of a fate for that bastard.

“Do we have a deal?” Dream repeats again. The edge in his voice suggests he’s getting impatient.

Tommy is running out of time. Any moment now, Dream would get bored of him and run him through with his sword. Then it’d be all over, both for himself and for the revolution. He needs to make a decision, quick.

Tommy thinks of his friends, L’Manberg, and the revolution. He thinks of Wilbur, back home, safe behind the walls of L’Manberg. He’d probably be screaming at him right now. But Wilbur isn’t standing here, deep in the nest of the enemy. Tommy was the one who’d fought his way into the castle, Tommy was the one who dueled the king for their freedom. He knew the moment he stepped foot in this castle that the revolutionary of L’Manberg would die. Whether or not he emerged again as king was up to him. Wilbur was a coward, and Tommy, Tommy was a winner.

They’ll understand. They’ll have to understand. He has no choice, he tells himself. It was for the best of all of them.

Ignoring the hand completely, he kneels and bows his head before Dream.

“We have a deal.”

Beneath the mask, a smile grows to match the one painted above it.

* * *

The next morning, a hero of the revolutionaries is crowned king. He wears not L’Manbergian blue, but the green of the silent figure that sets the too-large crown upon his head.

A puppet takes a seat on the throne, and beside him stands the puppet king.

**Author's Note:**

> Dream doesn’t want to be king. Dream just wants to sit around and kiss Gogy all day.
> 
> If you didn't get that last bit in the ending, "puppet king" is supposed to have a double meaning. It can be interpreted as a king who has no real power, in the case of Eret and Tommy, but also as the "king _of_ puppets", in the case of Dream.
> 
> This might be in the same universe as Unseen, but Dream’s characterization is different. If you want it to be a continuation, let’s just say Dream went off to make his own kingdom and then became a bitch boy. It’s not too much of a stretch really.
> 
> On a more technical note, this fic was kinda an experiment in several things. The first was using present tense, which I hope wasn’t too confusing for you guys. The other was slightly more subtle. I saw somewhere that Tubbo uses they/them pronouns along with he/him and wanted to try that out. Hopefully you guys also got my small jab there about shipping Tommy and Tubbo. Just please don’t do it. I’m already a degenerate for writing minecraft youtuber fanfics and if I think that’s even worse, then what does that make you? :)
> 
> I have ideas for a sequel to this, but I don’t know if I’ll end up writing it.


End file.
